Juniper
by Rhoswen Eolande
Summary: Petunia Evans meets a woman who convinces her not to marry Vernon Dursley and inadvertently introduces her to a new man instead. Oh yeah, and one other difference: Harry Potter is born a girl. FemHarry. Petunia redeeming her character. BEING REWRITTEN. SEE NOTE AT END.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: Yes, another fem Harry story. I'm playing around with different ideas and seeing which one I want to go with. It might be this one.

Other random thoughts - I always did feel rather sorry for young Petunia. I think that shows here.

* * *

Chapter One

Annabelle Wickley did not particularly enjoy working as a secretary at Grunnings Co. It was a job, something to get her by while she worked toward becoming a nurse. Some of her coworkers were tolerable.

Petunia Evans was not one of them.

Petunia Evans was gossipy, rude, and high-handed. She was dating the biggest asshole at Grunnings, Vernon Dursley, and everyone thought quietly that they were a perfect match for one another - and absolutely no one meant that in the positive sense.

So when Annabelle saw Petunia crying on the front steps of Grunnings one day, she was torn. It was her surprise that won her over in the end. Petunia Evans had a certain innate dignity to her, and she never cried over anything.

Annabelle sat down next to her. "What's wrong?" she asked in concern.

Petunia sniffed. "Nothing I want to talk about," she snapped.

Annabelle sighed. That was predictable. She stood and turned to leave.

The words burst out of Petunia as though she could not hold them in any longer. "My sister is having a baby girl!"

Annabelle paused, and turned back to Petunia cautiously. "That doesn't sound so bad," she said, and sat down slowly next to Petunia as she began ranting.

"Oh, you don't know my sister! She's a _freak,_ she - she's into imaginative things, nonsensical, fanciful things. And - and she's beautiful, and she threw it all away marrying some player from her schooldays. They ran away and eloped, first thing at age eighteen. Shotgun wedding. They're perfectly horrible. And now they're having a baby girl, and - And that's what _I_ always wanted," she whispered.

"Imagination isn't so bad," said Annabelle gently. Petunia gave her a flat glare. "No, really. It has its perks. It leads to innovation."

"I'm not much for innovation," said Petunia stiffly.

"But that thing you use to type on - would it even exist without the imagination of someone?" Annabelle pointed out. "You have to admit, at least some innovation is necessary for society to function."

"Yes, but it's just - I don't have any," Petunia murmured.

"I'm sure you have more than you think. More imagination, I mean," said Annabelle at Petunia's blank look. "You type, right? You should try writing. Experiment with a little of that imagination for yourself. Create new things."

Petunia looked torn.

"I think you may be jealous of your sister," Annabelle continued softly.

Petunia suddenly stormed to her feet, flushing. "I am _not_ envious!" she snapped. "Envy is an ugly emotion and I don't have it! That's perfectly ridiculous!" She stalked away.

Annabelle sighed, staring after her - almost pitying.

She decided to keep Petunia's secrets.

* * *

Petunia expected to hear all sorts of awful gossip about her over the next few days - she dreaded it - but to her surprise Annabelle decided to say nothing. This was unusually principled of her.

Petunia registered this for the first time - that she was grateful someone _hadn't_ participated in gossip.

The word rattled around in her brain. _Jealousy_. She couldn't stop thinking about it. Envy was something lower people did, something not at all attractive on her. But - well, she was skinny and bony, with a long neck and protruding teeth and a thin face. She was without magic. And Lily had both - beauty and magic, with her perfect proportions and gorgeous green eyes and long crimson colored hair.

She was fanciful. Weird. Impulsive. A freak.

She was married and pregnant with a daughter and special. She had the life Petunia had always wanted.

Petunia had decided to tell Vernon about her sister. They were sitting in the car at a drive in theater one day, having dinner, and she tentatively decided to broach the subject.

"Vernon, I have something to tell you. My sister… is a witch."

She expected anger. She expected disbelief. She expected to be called insane.

She didn't expect what came next.

"She thinks she's a witch?" said Vernon, eyebrows raising.

"Yes! Yes, that's exactly it!" Petunia jumped at the theory like a lifeboat.

"Well then. One of those heathen types, eh? Devil worshipper? Not to worry. You're perfectly sensible. I'll never hold it against you that you have a freak for a sister," said Vernon solemnly.

Petunia hesitated. _Freak._ That thing she had called her sister out of envy.

"Well… is it really bad, to be so imaginative? Doesn't imagination breed innovation?" Petunia did want imagination, suddenly. She wanted it a lot. She wanted to be innovative - a kind of magic in itself.

She realized that desperately, out of the blue.

Vernon stared at her. "Now, Pet," he said condescendingly, "I won't have that kind of nonsense talk. Stop being ridiculous and finish eating."

Petunia did not like being told what to do in such condescending tones. She was almost completely silent for the rest of the night.

* * *

Petunia sat down, tentatively, to write a poem.

Poetry, she had decided, was refined. It spoke of ballet and French cuisine and sophistication and pearl drop earrings and lace gloves. Things she adored.

Perhaps she was more of a romantic than she'd given herself credit for.

She sat down to write… and was at a loss, staring at the blank page. What to say? Then she thought of what Annabelle had said. Of envy.

She decided to write a poem describing a series of moments with her sister. It came out like this:

 _I'm six years old._

 _I love my sister._

 _She's reckless from the beginning,_

 _She's always in trouble,_

 _I'm the good girl._

 _She can float and make blossoms open and close._

 _I disapprove,_

 _And maybe,_

 _Maybe I envy her, too._

 _A boy steals her away._

 _He's strange like she is._

 _I hardly ever see my sister anymore._

 _I try to join them or listen in on them,_

 _And the boy hurts me with his power._

 _We're eight years old._

 _Now we're ten years old._

 _She gets her first Hogwarts letter._

 _Our parents praise her instead of me._

 _I beg to be let in._

 _The headmaster tells me I can't,_

 _As I have no magic._

 _Eleven years old._

 _I call Lily a freak_

 _And storm away from her at the Hogwarts Express station._

 _Thank goodness, I think,_

 _That I'm not a freak._

 _And out of bitterness,_

 _I almost out her to the Muggle world._

 _But then I remember loving my baby sister,_

 _And I don't._

 _Now we're sixteen._

 _Lily's full of nonsense,_

 _Bright smiles and airy eccentricity,_

 _Fanciful art and healing spells,_

 _Animal evidence and Transfiguration._

 _She's much prettier than I am._

 _She gets all the boys._

 _I won't be asked out until I am nineteen._

 _Lily is eighteen._

 _She doesn't invite anyone to her wedding._

 _I stop talking to her._

 _Our lives no longer intertwine._

 _Then I hear the baby girl announcement,_

 _And I realize the cycle is complete._

 _My sister has the life_

 _I always wanted to have._

 _The husband,_

 _And the daughter,_

 _And the magic._

Petunia stood and rushed from the writing desk. She made herself a cup of tea and pretended that her hands weren't shaking, that there weren't tears in her eyes.

* * *

She went shamefully to Annabelle one day at work and handed her a portfolio full of poems.

"I want you to look over this and tell me if it's any good," she said stiffly. "It's full of poems I wrote. I am… sorry. About the other day."

Apologies had always been hard pills to swallow for Petunia Evans.

Annabelle paused. She was a rather plain girl with a bun of brown hair, but when her face lit up, she had a lovely smile. "I'd be glad to take a look at them. Now let's see -" She opened the portfolio.

"Oh, no, not here!" said Petunia, panicked, but it was too late. Annabelle was already reading.

"Oh, this is wonderful!" she said warmly.

"... Really?" said Petunia tentatively.

"Do you enjoy writing?" Annabelle asked, looking up.

"... Yes," Petunia decided. "When I'm writing, I almost feel like I'm creating something… magical." The last word was whispered, and it sounded foolish to her own ears.

"That's great!" said Annabelle enthusiastically, despite Petunia's inner turmoil.

Petunia sat down slowly. "I… I had a date with Vernon the other night. I told him my sister believes she's a witch - you know, like a Wiccan? He called her a freak. And it made him sound like the ugliest part… of me.

"Then, when I defended her, he ordered me to stop talking nonsense and finish my dinner."

Annabelle stared at her, piercing, for a long moment, her bright smile fading. "You know Vernon Dursley," she said abruptly at last. "He has very… loud and extremely traditionalist opinions and complaints. And he thinks women should play a very… certain role in life. Are you ambitious?"

"I would like to do something with my life," Petunia admitted, troubled. "Perhaps I _could_ write. You're saying… that's incompatible with Vernon."

"... Perhaps," said Annabelle at last. "You'll have to decide whether or not that's something you want to live with. Are you attracted to him?"

"... That's hardly up for debate," Petunia huffed, straightening, turning back to her old self.

But they both knew she was dodging the question. Because she didn't.

Annabelle looked pitying and Petunia hated pity.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Annabelle convinced Petunia to go out for a spa treatment. "Come on, it'll make you feel loads better!" she insisted.

Petunia was skeptical.

It was all a bit uncomfortable at first - the facials, the undressing and getting a massage. But to her surprise, she found she felt a lot better afterward.

"Isn't it great?!" Annabelle said from the next massage table, grinning, and Petunia agreed privately that it was.

Annabella introduced her to meditative audio tapes, and when she finally put one in, she sat back and was frankly amazed by how much better she felt. Emotional and healed, though those were such cheesy words.

My God, what had gotten into her?

She told Vernon about all of it, showing him her poetry.

He chuckled. "Oh, you and your indulgences," she said. "It's cute."

Petunia frowned. This meant a lot to her. She didn't want to be 'cute.'

But Vernon had shown an interest, had forgiven her for her sister. He was the one… wasn't he?

* * *

She met David Birch at a party hosted by Annabelle.

She wore a nice dress and stood stiffly upright in the corner, holding a drink. A thin brunette man came up to her, smiling with kind eyes.

"I can see what you like here," he said. "The scenic view is so nice with no humans ruining it."

Petunia started a glare, then realized he was serious. She softened. "I don't like people," she said.

"We share that in common," said the man cheerfully. "David." He held out a hand.

Gingerly, she shook it.

"Can I get you a drink?"

The question threw her off guard. "You… you want to bring me a drink?"

"That is in fact what I said."

She glared at him. "Well, if you're going to be an asshole about it."

He actually laughed. No one had ever thought Petunia funny before. She had no idea what to think of it.

"Alright," she said. "A drink would be fine."

She realized over the course of the evening that David Birch made her give out surprised laughs. He was two years older than her. He worked as a waiter and went to open mic nights on weekends.

He was infertile. It was out of the question.

"You know, I have a boyfriend," she informed him at one time.

"Good to know. I'll have to remember not to grope your butt."

She blushed and gave him an offended glare, and he laughed again.

* * *

They took her out to a farm, Annabelle and David, organic and free range. She trudged with disgust through the mud and muck and dung, staying far away from the animals.

"You know, they won't kill you," David called.

"They're dirty!" she called back. "And dangerous!"

Finally, he took her to see a lamb.

It _was_ very cute. She knelt down, and softly petted its fur. It had innocent, moist eyes.

The farmer started talking about what happened to animals on big industrial farms, and Petunia became horrified and indignant. "That is most unsatisfactory," she said. "Most unsatisfactory."

She had promised not to let the trip affect her, but she started buying animal friendly products.

* * *

Vernon complained loudly when he heard what she was doing.

"Animal free products," he scoffed. "Animals can't feel anything, and they were put here to be eaten. It's absolutely ridiculous, as silly as meditation -"

"Vernon," said Petunia boldly, "I want to become a poet and I don't want to stop being a typist after I get married."

He stared at her flushing. "Well - well - that's absolutely unacceptable -" he blustered.

"Vernon," said Petunia, "I don't think this is going to work."

And as he stared and then shouted after her, she had the courage to walk away.

* * *

Annabelle and David comforted her.

"I always did think he was an asshole," Annabelle admitted.

"Would getting totally wasted help?" David asked.

Petunia looked up. "Yes," she admitted in Annabelle's apartment tearfully.

They went to a pub. They got very drunk. Petunia kissed David full on the mouth, and they ended up stumbling up the stairs, taking each other's clothes off.

The sex was surprisingly slow and tender and when she woke up, she realized she should feel some sort of shame, but she didn't.

David found her clinging around a bathrobe, staring out the pub room window. He came up behind her and placed warm hands on her shoulders.

"... I always wanted children," she said tearfully, quiet. "But that doesn't matter. Because I love you."

She turned around and bent her face into the crook of his shoulder, crying softly into it. David held her silently.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Lily Potter opened the Godric's Hollow cottage door one day and was stunned to find Petunia standing there, looking sheepish. "Can - can I come in?"

"... Of course, Tuney, of course!" Lily stepped aside, stunned, to let her through. James stopped in the middle of whatever he was doing and stared. Petunia looked and felt awkward and out of place in the cottage, with Lily's swelling belly.

"I'll just, uh - I'm going to go water the garden gnome," said James, stumbling from the room.

There was a moment of silence.

"I may be a Muggle, but I'm fairly certain you're not supposed to water a garden gnome," said Petunia dryly at last, and Lily snorted with laughter. That got Petunia going - and pretty soon they were both laughing hysterically together on the sofa.

"Oh, Tuney, I missed you," said Lily with feel. "I'm sorry about the wedding, about Hogwarts, about -" It all came flooding out at once. Petunia wanted to hate her, for being so forgiving on top of everything else.

"It's fine," said Petunia stiffly. "I - owe you an apology. There was envy there, and - Well, you're still my sister. You're - you're not a freak."

Lily stared at her, emotional. Petunia looked away.

"I have a boyfriend now," she said. "David Birch. He, erm - thinks you're Wiccan. He thought this would be good for me. So did my friend Annabelle. He and I, we - we just moved into a city apartment together. He's a waiter and he goes to open mic nights. I'm a typist, and I've - I've taken to writing poetry. Can you believe that?" She laughed softly, sadly.

"Yes," said Lily gently. "I can. Oh, Tuney, that's wonderful -"

"He can't have children." There was a heavy silence.

"... I'm sorry," Lily whispered. "I know how much you wanted that. A - a daughter."

"I love him," said Petunia quietly, looking forward. "It's okay. He - he has a wonderful sense of humor and he's quite kind. I - I think you would like him.

"I've - I've been trying to gossip less. Be a little more relaxed. That sort of thing. I've taken to meditation and animal friendly products and facials - things I've never bothered with before. I'm listening to classical music. I'm learning French cuisine from a book.

"I don't really regret anything, the way I used to." Petunia trailed off in thought. Lily was watching her with a funny little smile. "What about you?" She took a deep breath and turned to look at her sister, bracing herself for envy.

Instead came this:

"We've been in hiding from the war against Lord Voldemort. We've become targets." Lily winced as Petunia stared at her, flabbergasted. "James was a duelist and I was a Healer. Now we're in hiding from - from that madman."

"That's terrible. I'm sorry," said Petunia with feel. She felt helpless and hated it. "Where's, erm - where's Sev? I never did find out. Too angry and bitter, I suppose."

"Oh, Sev…" Lily looked pained. "He's fighting for Lord Voldemort."

Petunia snorted. "Well that figures." And at last Lily cracked a smile.

"On a happier note, I'm trying to decide on a name for my daughter." She smiled wider with effort and looked up.

"That," said Petunia, "I can help with."

They ended up going through baby name books. Petunia knew Lily would want one romantic and fanciful, but that didn't bother her as much as it used to.

In the end, they chose Juniper. Juniper Amelie Potter. They had great fun doing it, too.

Though they kept in touch and Petunia bragged about her sister often, keeping a photo of her on her writing desk, that was the last time Petunia ever saw Lily alive.

* * *

She opened her apartment door one morning, and a baby was lying there swaddled on the doorstep. She had a headful of black hair, bright green eyes, and a lightning bolt shaped scar on her forehead.

A letter was tucked inside her blankets.

* * *

Author's Notes: Juniper's childhood is coming up next.

No, David does not know yet the Potters were really magic. No, he and Petunia are not yet married. That will come up later.

I named Juniper Amelie Potter after Juniper French, a premature baby girl who JK Rowling penned a personal autographed book series to after finding out that her father used to read Harry Potter to her, helping her survive her initial stages of life.


	4. Note: Rewriting

I'm rewriting this, giving Petunia her very own extended and revised story. The new story is up on my author's page, and it's entitled _Petunia's Story_. I thought she deserved a bit more character evolution and air time.


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